


Dark Roman Wine

by NnoitraSzayel



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, M/M, Surprise Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-22
Updated: 2014-08-22
Packaged: 2018-02-14 05:01:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2178897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NnoitraSzayel/pseuds/NnoitraSzayel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been a year since the defeat of Voldemort. Harry takes Draco out to dinner.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dark Roman Wine

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fic for the surprise endings contest at the Drarry-for-Life group on deviantart. I had this idea in my head ever since I found out surprise endings was one of the possible themes.
> 
> Yes, the title is based off the song Dark Roman Wine by Snow Patrol, as that’s what I happened to be listening to while writing this.
> 
> first published July 18, 2011

_“Hermione?”_

_“Yes Ron?”_

_“I’m worried about Harry…he acts as if nothing happened.”_

_“Ron, Harry needs to sort through this on his own. Soon he’ll come to accept it.”_

_“You think so?”_

_“I know so.”_

\----|----|----

It had been a year since the war had ended. Well, technically a year and two weeks. This morning dawned a cloudy June 5th; Draco’s nineteenth birthday.

Harry yawned and ran a hand through his hair as he padded into the kitchen graced with the sight of a properly dressed Draco sitting at the table reading the paper. Draco looked up from the article he was reading to look at Harry with his eyes. Merlin, how Harry knew he could lose himself in their silvery depths. Instead, he smiled and said. “Happy birthday, Draco…”

Malfoy gave a small quirk of the lips. “Thank you…”

Harry walked over and gently placed a kiss on Draco’s lips, smiling at the soft, “Mm.” he gave.

“Does that mean we’re doing something special today?” Draco asked, feigning innocence, as he knew Harry always had something special planned for his birthday.

“Yes.” An easy smile fell into place. “I’ve made dinner reservations at a restaurant.”

“Oh? Which one?”

“ _Franchesco’s._ ”

Draco raised an eyebrow. Harry knew full well that Draco had no idea where he was talking about and grinned. “It’s in London. A Muggle place.”

Draco half-sneered. “A Muggle place in London?”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Draco, you’ll live. I happen to think that the food there is very good, and I know that you’ll think the same thing. Besides, if you don’t come with me, you won’t get your _real_ birthday present.”

Draco gave a mock sigh of resignation. “Alright, I’ll go with you Harry, but my real present had better be worth it.”

Harry gave a shy smile. “Oh, it will be.”

\----|----|----

“Blaise?”

“Yes, Pansy?”

“Do you think Potter will be there tonight?”

A pause, and then: “I’m not sure.”

“What about Weasley? And Granger?”

“I have a feeling they will be.”

“Do you think Weasley will continue to apologize?” she spoke it in a monotone, but he recognized the pain for what it was.

Blaise sighed. “I hope not. It was… an accident… amidst a battle. Besides… we’ve already-”

“Forgiven him?” now she sounded bitter.

“Pansy… I’m done fighting them. Look at what it ended in. It’s easier to pretend than to hold a grudge.”

Pansy huffed. “I’ve only forgiven Potter because he made Draco happy.”

“I know… but he might not be there…”

“Why not? If he loved Draco like he says he did-”

“He’s got a lot on his mind, Pansy.” Blaise’s tone said that he was done talking, and the conversation ended there.

\----|----|----

Harry took his chair across from Draco and ignored the waitress’ funny look when he asked for two glasses of red wine to start with. It was never too early for wine, in Draco’s opinion.

Draco let his hand rest in Harry’s, listening to the quiet noise of the place and smiled when Harry did. Soon, the waitress returned with their drinks and asked Harry if he knew what he’d like to eat. Draco rolled his eyes, knowing that when they went out and a waitress (or waiter, in some cases) acted like this, it was because they particularly liked one of them and therefore would ignore their joined hands and the other person sitting at the table. Before, it had usually been Draco who all the attention was given to, but lately it seemed to be Harry. Then again, they’d been going to Muggle places ever since the war ended, and it was unlikely that a Muggle would ever be able to appreciate a pureblood wizard such as himself.

Without even looking at the menu, (Harry usually picked one thing he liked and then always got it whenever he went there again) he asked for the spaghetti that the place was apparently known for. Pausing to think as the waitress wrote, Harry then requested the mushroom ravioli for Draco. The girl looked over at the chair Draco was sitting in, seemingly as if noticing him for the first time. Raising an eyebrow, she slowly wrote down the order before asking Harry if that would be all. When he nodded, she retreated to the kitchen.

“Sorry about that, Draco.” Harry said, referring to the way the waitress had ignored him completely.

“I know that you’d never go for a girl, let alone one with a face as hideous as hers.” Draco sneered.

Harry sighed. “You shouldn’t have to deal with this… not on your birthday…”

“It’s fine, Potter.”

Harry bit his lip, but fell silent, knowing not to push it. Instead, he settled for rubbing his thumb along the back of Draco’s long, thin fingers. The Black’s piano fingers, Draco had told him once.

Wanting Harry to know that despite what he’d said, he truly wasn’t angry, Draco asked, “Am I allowed to guess what my present is?”

Harry chuckled softly. “You’ll never guess.” The Boy-Who-Lived was very sure of that. “But you’re welcome to try.”

“Hm…” Draco said, now wondering even more what it could possibly be, and finding that he truly didn’t have any idea. They spent the next twenty minutes exchanging trivial conversation; about Quidditch, about who from their school year was getting married, and occasionally the Muggles seated around them would give them odd looks, but neither boy noticed... they were too interested in each other.

\----|----|----

Narcissa sat in her room, dressed in black robes. She was looking at the picture of Draco she kept on her dresser. One for every year. Lucius walked in to stand stiffly behind her.

“The guests will be arriving soon.”

She gave a shaky breath. “I know.”

“Will you be able to greet them?”

She gave a small, determined nod before taking his arm and allowing herself to be led to the foyer.

\----|----|----

Harry had paid for their meal, which, despite the service they had received, Draco had admitted was quite good. They had then left, although a few people had given them odd looks, which they attributed to the fact that they were homophobic and did not welcome the sight of two men holding hands. Slipping an arm around Draco’s slim waist, Harry led them to a nearby park, where they both took a seat on a wooden bench.

Harry leaned in to steal a kiss, and Draco smiled. “Are you ready for your present now?”

“I’ve been ready since this morning.”

Harry laughed, startling a couple walking by with their dog. “Alright, Draco. Well, I had been thinking…”

“Thinking?” Draco asked, frowning. Suddenly, Harry felt nervous.

“Yeah… I mean, we love each other, and we live in the same flat, and I just… I thought that, maybe you know… we should take it to the next level…”

Draco raised an eyebrow. “The next level?”

“I mean.. I-I don’t have a ring for you… because I wasn’t sure which one to get, but I wanted to ask you to marry me tonight anyway…” Harry found that he was holding his breath, waiting for Draco’s answer as the blonde haired boy just stared at him.

Recovering from the shock, Draco leaned and pulled Harry into a warm embrace. “Yes… Harry… of course I will…”

Harry let out a sigh of relief and held the Slytherin to him. “Then we can be together… _forever…_ ”

\----|----|----

Narcissa was the last to place her flower upon the ground, tears silently streaming down her face. Everyone else was silent, too, as they stood, gathered in the Malfoy family’s cemetery; gathered around Draco’s grave.

The boy had not lived to see his eighteenth birthday. He had not lived to see the end of the war, the final battle of which he had died in.

To those few walking around the park, Harry was the only one sitting on the bench, his hand next to him as if holding something invisible… something only he could see…


End file.
